


Practical Demonology

by Peahen



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 09:31:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peahen/pseuds/Peahen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A junior sorceress finds something unexpected in her late mentor's basement. And then porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It all started with (spoilers for the first chapter) [a dream I had about banging a demon](http://shitifindon.tumblr.com/post/72875040844/bahahahahaha-you-guys-i-had-a-porn-dream). Hey, I take my inspiration where I can find it.

I knew immediately that opening the door had been a mistake.

Okay, let me back up a little. We've all seen the horror movies, but when a practitioner passes away, they almost never leave behind anything more dangerous than a couple of dodgy alchemical experiments or a miniature gryphon. The only reason it's standard procedure to send another practitioner to check over the house is because things like that, which are no big deal for us, can pose a major problem for mundane emergency services. My job was to check the place over, neutralize any stray books, dismantle minor wards and convenience spells, safely dispose of any unstable potions or alchemical byproducts, verify the absence of hungry little gryphons, and then come out and sign a couple of things. 

If I hadn't known Gran, I probably still wouldn't have volunteered. I might've been the only other practitioner in town, but it wouldn't have taken more than a day to call in somebody official, and poking around in a dead stranger's house looking for hazardous magical materials is not my idea of fun even if strictly speaking it's not likely to be dangerous. Gran was okay, though. She was a little kooky, but in the cool way. Asking anybody she met under the age of forty to call her Gran, casting Horn of Plenty on her birdfeeders, knowing everybody's birthday so she could send them homemade cookies, that kind of kooky. The worst thing I expected to find in her house was a pair of enchanted knitting needles patiently filling the living room with sixty-plus feet of scarf because she forgot to turn them off before she went out.

So imagine my surprise when I opened the door behind the stairs in her basement, expecting a laundry room or maybe a storage closet, and instead I found a demon.

Crash course in demonology: Ninety percent of what you know from the movies is wrong. 

Demons' true names are more like intangible magical artifacts than spoken words, and more like a combined truth-scry and phone number than an unbreakable leash on the demon's soul. If a demon learns _your_ name you are not automatically their slave forever; the catch there is a little more complicated and a lot more subtle - if you willingly tell a demon a name to call you by, whether it's your "real" one or not, they gain a little influence over your mind and soul, and if you invite the demon to choose a name to call you by (or even just get in the habit of answering to something they picked) they gain a little influence over your physical body. 

Also, any circle can be broken. A well-drawn circle will do two things: provide the summoner with the name of the demon inside, which is kind of the bare minimum you need to semi-safely bargain with one, and keep the demon contained until the summoner releases them… but a powerful enough demon in a weak enough circle can pretty much ignore the second part, which is why summoning powerful demons is a stupid pastime in addition to being wildly illegal.

Knowing a demon's name will tell you, among other things, how powerful they are. 

I'd like to say that the relevant parts of this flashed through my mind and I made a snap decision to step forward into the faded chalk arc of the summoner's crescent, taking control of the circle for whatever small advantage that might offer me in surviving the next thirty seconds if this demon happened to be close to breaking it. I'd like to say that, but what actually happened is that I opened the door, said "Oh _shit_ ," and stepped into the summoner's place in the diagram before the conscious parts of my brain had gotten any farther than majorly freaking out. And then the name hit, and, well…

Demonology is a standard part of any responsible magical education, but it's very much a safety thing, 'forewarned is forearmed' and all that. For obvious reasons, we don't learn how to actually summon them, or much about what the process is like. I knew the abstract properties of demons' names, but nothing about that prepared me for the moment of learning one.

His name felt like fire on the back of my tongue, like breathing flame and swallowing smoke. It flooded my senses completely. My skin felt too tight, I was baking hot, and red-black fireworks burst across my field of vision. I swayed and almost stumbled back, but held my ground reflexively; nothing good ever comes of staggering around mostly blind in the middle of intense magic, even without a demon in the picture.

Then it faded, leaving behind a lingering warmth and all the knowledge I'd been taught to expect. Alongside that, now that I could focus on it, I was getting the usual spell feedback from the circle.

Together, they told me I was pretty much fucked.

The circle was old and badly faded, its containment aspect barely more than the magical equivalent of caution tape. And the demon, if the sensory blast of his name hadn't been enough of a clue, was very, very powerful. The first coherent thought I managed, as I was putting the pieces together, was to wonder why he hadn't just gotten up and walked out before now. And as soon as I wondered it, I started picking up clues from the jumble of new information.

This was (luckily for me) an _honourable_ demon. Through the connection of his name, I could sense his attitude towards bargaining with mortals, and patience and a sense of fairness featured heavily. There was also something else that hadn't quite come clear at first, a vague feeling on the far edge of what I could pick up from him. I noticed several other things before I understood it.

For one, the circle wasn't just old, it was well-used. The immaterial path linking it to this demon's corner of hell felt like a hallway with a track worn down the middle of the carpet. For another, as my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I was starting to see more of the demon than two golden eyes and a glimpse of cherry-red wing. 

He was lounging mostly on his stomach on a backless couch, which I could tell he'd created with magic; conjured objects have an unmistakable feel to them, and this one gave off an infernal vibe on top of that. He must have been seven or eight feet tall, with curly black hair, huge ribbed wings, and black talons where a human would've had nails; one hand was busy propping his head up and therefore mostly hidden by the hair, but the other one rested on the near edge of the couch with all five claws clearly visible. He was unreasonably attractive, I mean the kind of face that would make me suspect a glamour if I saw it on a human, but with his name burning in my mind I could tell that I was seeing one hundred percent unfiltered physical reality. The same went for his body, which besides being tall was comfortably solid, with just enough muscle to look good without veering into bodybuilder territory, not to mention flawless skin and a mathematically perfect ass. Oh, and naked. Did I mention he was naked? He was totally naked.

And that vague feeling I was getting through his name? Yeah: sex. Gran's surprise basement demon was horny.

All in all, about five seconds passed between opening the door and coming to the conclusion that the recently deceased woman who had given me dinosaur mittens for my ninth birthday had definitely been banging a demon. Pretty regularly, for several years if not longer. I tried not to picture anything. Gran might not have been a literal relative, but I still didn't want to think about her sex life. Also, I kind of had more pressing concerns.

Like: the demon was smirking at me.

"Um," I said. "...Hi?"

"You are not who I was expecting," he said dryly. His voice was as unfair as the rest of him, all deep and smooth, and it went straight to parts of my brain that I definitely did not want involved in this conversation.

"Yeah, um… she died," I said.

The demon raised one perfect black eyebrow. "You didn't kill her, did you?" he inquired. Partly through his name, partly through regular old tone of voice and body language, I received the distinct impression that he wouldn't be very happy with me if I said yes.

"Uh, no," I said, a little shakily, hoping he could read the truth on me like I could on him because I was in no way pulling off the calm confident nothing-to-hide attitude that people who aren't lying should theoretically possess. He smiled. I sensed no hostile intention from him, which isn't a guarantee with demons but is still much better than the alternative.

"Good." He regarded me for a few more seconds, which I probably should have spent strategizing but instead spent staring at his inhumanly gorgeous face. "How did she die?"

I blinked and made myself stop admiring his eyelashes. "Heart attack," I recalled. "Um, this morning outside a cafe. I wasn't there."

"A shame. I liked her," he said, with (I could tell) perfect honesty. "What _ever_ am I going to do now?"

He stretched his wings, and the tips struck ghostly sparks from the air where they met the boundary of the circle. I could feel that he was holding back, deliberately taunting me; if he'd just opened them a little farther, the barrier would have shattered.

Several answers to his question sprang to mind. A demon as powerful as he was, called into the mortal world and set loose, could become a global problem. If he was smart and ambitious as well as powerful, he could become a global _conqueror_. Granted, that didn't fit what I knew about him, which was that he had just spent who knows how long sitting patiently in his mortal booty call's basement in a circle so fragile he could break it with one good shove. On the other hand, I'd just told him that his mortal booty call was dead, which meant he had a pretty good reason to be upset, and if he decided to take it out on whoever was closest, I was in deep shit. Along with Gran's neighbours and possibly the entire rest of town.

On the less terrifying end of things… well, he'd come here to have sex. And I might not have been the person he'd been looking for, but I was definitely the person he was looking _at_. It didn't take a deep mystical connection to interpret that look. It was a kind of look I would've found extremely flattering in some other context. Here in Gran's basement, face to face with a demon who could rip my soul from my body and bind it in eternal torment anytime he felt like it, I was a little too shaken to enjoy the ego boost.

I took a deep breath.

"We could go back to your place," I said, as calmly as I could manage.

The demon folded his wings and looked at me more closely; I'd almost call it a double-take. "Go on," he said. I could feel through his name that I'd caught his interest.

His name also let me get a pretty good sense of what approach to take with him: direct and honest, not trying to hide my motives or downplay what I hoped to get out of a deal. "Whatever you end up doing, I kind of really don't want you doing it _here_ ," I explained. "And if you take me to, um, hell, you can send me back here whenever you want, but you can't come back by yourself, right?"

Smiling thoughtfully, he nodded. "Under normal circumstances, I cannot. But the circle is a standing invitation." I hadn't thought of that, but I wasn't surprised; it made a lot more sense that he had come here under his own power than that Gran had summoned a demon into her basement and then gone out for coffee and left him there. I knew he was telling the truth, but I double-checked anyway. My link to the circle confirmed it.

"This circle will collapse if you give it a mean look," I said, and he grinned. He had very white teeth, humanlike except for the long sharp canines. I tried not to stare. "I'd want you to take it down on the way out."

"Sensible," said the demon, grinning a little wider. "Anything else?"

My bargaining power was seriously limited. Friendly as he might seem, I didn't feel like it would be a smart move to ask for too much, or get into a lengthy haggling session that might bore or annoy him. "I want you to send me home free and unharmed when we're done," I said, "or kill me and release my soul. Free and unharmed."

That would take care of eternal torture, the major looming threat of any interaction with demons: eventually, dead or alive, he'd have to let me go. I didn't feel confident enough to specify that it had to be alive.

"Interesting," he said. "Nothing more than that?"

I reviewed my terms, took a moment to think about them, and shook my head. The demon would end up in hell, unable to return to the mortal world until the next time he was summoned. I would end up _out_ of hell, one way or another. Gran's neighbours would be safe from potential demonic tantrums, at least in the immediate future. It wasn't the best I could hope for, but it was the best I could realistically expect to get.

"Then here is what _I_ want," said the demon. "One: I am the one who decides when we are done. I can keep you for an hour, or a year, or a hundred years, as the whim takes me."

That was pretty much what I had expected regardless; it wasn't like I'd have any way to hold him to it if I asked him to let me go and he said no. "Okay," I said.

"Two: You must tell me in plain words what you expect us to be _doing_ when I bring you home, and tell me in plain words what you think of the idea."

I blushed.

The demon grinned.

"Like, now?" I said.

"Now," he agreed.

Plain words. Right. Although my mystical connection had no direct comment on the matter, I suspected he knew exactly how embarrassed I was going to be and had thrown in this condition at least partly for that reason. "I, um, expect us to have sex," I said, managing not to stumble over the words too badly. "And I'm… kind of terrified but also really into it?"

"Acceptable," said the demon. I had the feeling - this time with input from his name - that there was more going on here than I understood, but I wasn't getting any hint of concealed ill intent, just… subtext. I decided that I didn't need to ask. He continued, "And my final condition: Something to call you by."

"Oh, shit," I muttered. He grinned at me. I tried to focus. Sure, he was agreeing to let me go free and unharmed, but once a demon has your name they never, ever lose it again. He could let me go in a week and then spend the next ten years gradually mindfucking me into summoning him. Or…

"Can it be a name you choose?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

That would at least limit his influence to my mortal body. I could live with that. If I lived. If I didn't, of course, I wouldn't have a mortal body to worry about anyway.

"Do you know… when the circle breaks, will I still have _your_ name?"

He smiled, showing a hint of fang. "Yes. It does not always happen that way, but you took to it well. My name will live in your soul forever."

"There go my chances of ever getting a government job," I said. The demon laughed. I tried not to shudder, and tried not to think about why I was shuddering, and managed the second one. "Okay," I said. "Then… name me."

He looked at me thoughtfully for a few seconds, giving me plenty of time to get increasingly uneasy despite the steady reassurance in the back of my mind that he wasn't playing me false. Then he smiled again.

"We have a bargain, Ananke."

I felt the name take hold. It was like warm water flowing under my skin, a pleasant but disturbing sensation. I breathed in, breathed out, and it settled, leaving me with a heightened awareness of my own body and the uncomfortable knowledge that it was now just a little bit less mine.

The demon stood up.

Um, wow.

I'd heard the phrase 'hung like a demon' before (who hasn't?) but it had never occurred to me to wonder if it had any basis in reality. Staring at the evidence, I decided I was never going to describe a mortal man that way again. I also started to worry about whether or not having sex with him was going to be physically possible. 'Comfortable' seemed out of the question. I wasn't sure I could get one _hand_ all the way around it, let alone anything else.

"Having doubts already?" the demon asked. Yeah, he was pretty clearly making fun of me. I glanced up at his face and saw exactly the smirk I was expecting.

"Kinda yeah," I said, because there didn't seem to be much point in trying to play it off. He might even have taken offense; he was weirdly into honesty for a demon.

"Fearing for your comfort?"

"Um, _duh_." I could probably have found a more diplomatic way to say that, but what are you gonna do. He laughed, anyway.

"You forget, I am a demon. I can arrange for you to be as comfortable as you could wish for," he said, in a tone I would have labeled 'kind' coming from just about anybody else.

"Oh." That fit with what I knew about demons; physical reality doesn't tend to limit them as aggressively as it does us mortals, even when they aren't directly using magic to alter it. I just hadn't ever considered that feature in this exact context. His name, warm as ever in my mind, assured me that he was telling the truth, and also that he didn't have any immediate plans to take advantage of the blatant loophole implicit in telling me that he _could_ make me comfortable without mentioning whether or not he _would_.

And, okay, with the obvious logistical problems taken care of… yeah, it was impressive. Yeah, I was impressed. I was also blushing again, simultaneously fascinated by the possibilities and trying very hard not to imagine them.

"Shall we go?" said the demon.

"Sure," I said.

He spread his wings. The circle came apart. Insubstantial shards of magic fell through the air between us, their ghostly glitter fading before they reached the floor. I realized that although I had _known_ the circle was providing me with all the protective value of a wet paper fence, I hadn't really believed it on a visceral level, and now that meaningless but comforting barrier was gone and I was looking at a demon who was about to take me home and fuck me. I tried not to cower.

The demon, naturally, grinned. He also held out his hand to me. I looked at it. Human hands are lighter on the palms, shinier, but his were the same shade of red front and back. 

It was too late to have second thoughts, and then some. I stepped forward, over the powerless smears of chalk on the floor, and took his hand. He folded his wings around me. I closed my eyes. The floor dropped out from under us.


	2. Chapter 2

I had no idea what I'd been expecting, but this peaceful floating sensation wasn't it. Something smelled like a spice cupboard. Nothing hurt. It wasn't even particularly disorienting, apart from the weightless uncertainty about concepts like 'up' and 'down'. It didn't last more than half a minute before gravity started happening again and our feet touched the floor. Definitely not the same floor. The light in this room was brighter, and…

I opened my eyes and looked down. Yep. Not a stitch. The demon had left my clothes behind in the mortal world.

When I looked up at his face, he was grinning at me again. I couldn't decide whether I liked or hated that grin. While I was experiencing emotional confusion, he knelt down and kissed the back of my hand, which he was still holding. It gave me a pleasant little jolt in my tummy and points south. 

"Welcome to my home," said the demon.

"Uh, thanks," I said, looking around. We were standing in a large, round room with a high domed ceiling. The ceiling and walls were made of a creamy stone with a faint golden sheen that I didn't recognize. They didn't feel conjured, but they did feel infernal. The floor was covered in a thick red carpet, darker and more purple than the demon's skin, closer to 'wine' than 'ripe cherry'. It was very soft under my bare feet. Behind the demon, I could see a massive bed covered in thick blankets and puffy pillows, all patterned in black and gold. It looked like the most comfortable thing imaginable.

There was something weird about the room, but it took me a second to figure it out: the bright warm light was coming from the stone of the ceiling and walls. There were no lamps.

"Nice place," I added. "More, um… comfy than I was expecting."

"I enjoy comfort," said the demon, which seemed pretty reasonable. He was still down on one knee in front of me, holding my cold hand in his warm one. I felt weird about that. It was some mix of thrilling and reassuring, to have him be so - polite? Gallant? Respectful, maybe? But at the same time, he was still a demon, still touching me. It occurred to me that I was probably going to spend a lot of time in this state halfway between aroused and terrified.

It occurred to me that I was more or less okay with that.

The demon kissed my hand again and got to his feet, spreading his wings a little for balance. I smelled that spice-cupboard smell again. Maybe it was him.

"So, um…" I said, and trailed off, lacking any idea of where I was going with that. The demon laughed.

"Here," he said, and he bent down and kissed me. It was pretty good, as kisses go. A big help with my terror/arousal balance, for sure. His mouth tasted like something indefinable but pleasant; one second I would think hot chocolate, the next cinnamon honey, the next caramel. I closed my eyes and rested my hands flat against his chest, partly for balance, mostly on a because-I-can basis. He made a fascinating little noise and bit my lip, delicately enough that it didn't even hurt, and _wow_ speaking of terror/arousal balance. I'm pretty sure I whimpered, but I didn't really notice at the time, being way too distracted by how painfully turned on I was all of a sudden.

I pulled back a little, opened my eyes, and asked, "Are you - doing the name thing?" Sources disagree on exactly what kind of access a demon gains by naming you, but somehow I didn't think making me really horny was beyond him.

"Not yet," he said, amused. And truthful. He hadn't lied to me once, so far.

"Okay." Instead of spending any more time thinking about that, I stretched up on tiptoe and wrapped both hands around the back of his neck and kissed him.  He still had to lean down, but not quite as far - and not for very long, because the next thing he did was grab my ass in both hands and pick me right up off the floor.

I squeaked. There really isn't a better word for it. The demon laughed. I blushed and hid my face in his shoulder for a second. His skin was smooth and soft, and I really wanted to nuzzle it, and there didn't seem to be any reason not to, so I did. He let me take my time about rubbing various parts of my face against his shoulder and neck until I finally came back to his mouth for another kiss; when I got there, he was smiling. I felt very encouraged. Comforted, too, by his general deliciousness and the fact that he seemed content to go slow.

He didn't seem to be having any trouble holding me up. I hesitantly let go of the back of his neck, then slid my hands down over his shoulders. He had _really_ great skin. It kept distracting me from everything else, and as distractions go it was a very nice one. I leaned forward, and he pulled me closer until I was snuggled against his chest. That was an experience. He was warm, more so than most humans, and I could feel his heartbeat where our skin touched. I wrapped my arms around his upper chest and laid my head on his shoulder and tried to think calm thoughts. If I just focused on all that gorgeous skin I was touching, it… almost worked.

When he laughed, I felt the way the sound rumbled in his chest. There went my calm thoughts.

"You, um, have really nice skin," I mumbled into his shoulder.

"I know," said the demon. I decided that I liked how I could feel his voice when I was koala-clinging to his chest. "I am proud of this form," he continued, and I pressed myself a little closer in sensory appreciation while he spoke.

"It's a pretty great form," I said.

"Thank you."

I loosened my arms a little and un-scrunched myself up so I could kiss him again. He kissed back very gently. I relaxed, glad I wasn't making him impatient.

Somewhere in the back of my mind was the continuing awareness that we were both naked, the whole front of my body was pressed against his chest and stomach, and our corresponding parts were separated by not a whole lot of air. Given the intimidating size of his corresponding part, it was not an easy thing to stop thinking about. It was also most of the reason why I was so grateful for his patience. As long as I didn't feel rushed, I could take my time getting used to the idea with only a small, manageable amount of fear.

Prolonged and repeated sampling left me no closer to figuring out just what he tasted like. I wondered if it was a magic thing. If it was a deliberate illusion, his name should have told me, but if it was a basic property of his body… maybe I could ask him later. There would probably be time. Meanwhile, I kissed the side of his neck to see if it was the same way.

Yes and no. Still tasty, still defying all comparison, but the hints of almost-familiarity I got were a little different. More cinnamon, less honey. Less maple sugar, more ginger cookies.

He chuckled. I hugged him to feel the sound. Then, since he didn't seem to disapprove or anything, I kissed his neck again. All the way down to his collarbone and up to his jaw, he had that same ever-changing mystery flavour, warm and sweet with a little bit of bite. I sighed happily and tucked my face against his shoulder; now that I was familiar with the taste, I recognized the spice-cupboard smell as definitely him, and I was getting very fond of it.

"Ananke," the demon murmured. I felt his magic ride the name through my body. He didn't change anything directly, but the contact alone came with a very distinctive flush of heat, and I discovered that I _liked_ the feeling. It was unsettling in the abstract to know that a demon had named me, but on a more concrete and immediate level, it kind of really turned me on.

"Oh, wow," I said. "Is it going to feel like that every time you use it?"

"When I choose."

"I, um. I liked it," I mumbled, ducking my head a little in a totally useless effort to hide my blush.

"Is that so," said the demon. He didn't use the name out loud this time, but he poured his magic into me and _left_ it there - warming me with infernal heat, making me aware of the blood flowing in my veins and the breath filling my lungs and the boundary of my skin. I could tell through _his_ name that he shared in that awareness. My entire physical being was an open book to him.

That time, I definitely whimpered.

"Yes," the demon said thoughtfully. "I see that you do."

I lifted my head up and kissed him. It felt amazing. _Everything_ felt amazing. I set my hands on his shoulders and squeezed, just to feel his gorgeous skin some more. If, as he'd sort of implied, he'd shaped this body to be as attractive as possible, he had done a _really good job_. I wanted to put my hands and my mouth all over him. I wanted him to put _his_ mouth all over _me_.

Demons don't have forked tongues, by the way, or at least this one didn't.

He seemed to like my sudden enthusiasm. He bit my lip again; I moaned; he gave my ass a squeeze, reminding me of just where and how he was holding me, and I discovered that my feelings on the subject had changed. My lingering doubts about how comfortable he could possibly make me were overwhelmed by how much I wanted to try it and see. 

When I stopped to catch my breath, I could still taste the demon's tongue in my mouth. 

"So," I said, "if that was a clever plan to make me way more horny than scared, it worked."

The demon laughed. I bit my lip to stifle an impatient whine.

"And now that you have achieved this happy state," he said teasingly, "what would you like me to do about it? In plain words."

"In _plain words_ ," I growled, "I want you to _fuck me_."

"Plain enough," said the demon, smirking. He shifted his grip. I had a momentary pulse of fear when I contemplated exactly what was about to go exactly where, but it settled into anticipation pretty fast. He'd said he could make me comfortable, after all, and he hadn't been lying; I trusted his name that far. And I was feeling really, really into this.

So what the hell, I'd risk it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so the phrase "sexy body horror" describes this chapter pretty well. If that is not your thing you may want to stop right here.

I didn't have a detailed idea of how this was going to work. Would he take me to the bed, or just...? 'Or just' turned out to be the answer. He balanced me carefully against his body and let go with one hand for a few seconds. I looked down. There it was, cherry-red and massive. I shivered, but in the good way. When it made contact, I just kind of rested on it for a moment while he got his hand on my ass again.

At that point, I definitely had no idea how he was going to accomplish the goal of fucking me. Not with a dick so huge that I could perch on top as though on a very round bicycle seat, and not when I was pretty sure it was long enough to reach my ribcage from my crotch. But however he was going to do it, I imagined it would have to take a while.

Nope.

He said my name and pulled, and I slid _all_ the way down. I felt his magic rearrange me as I went - opening me up at first, making sure I stretched to let him in, and then pushing everything painlessly aside as his enormous cock reached the end of the line and kept right on going. It should have hurt. It would have, I'm sure, if he'd let it. If he'd done that without the magic, it might have killed me. But it just felt good. No, that's not a strong enough word. It felt fucking _glorious_. 

When I leaned forward and straightened up a little, I could feel his magic working to maintain my altered internal dimensions. Organs flowed out of the way as he shifted inside me. I recognized that it was objectively disgusting, but I didn't give a damn. I loved it. I pressed my face against his chest and moaned. 

He let go with both hands.

I felt utterly helpless, utterly _fucked_. The only thing holding me up was his dick. I was like somebody's keys hanging on a hook. The weight of my body kept me in place; I squirmed, but couldn't manage to lift myself more than an inch. Every time I moved, my whole midsection felt like molasses being stirred with a finger. As for the part of my body nominally designed for this job, 'full' didn't even begin to cover it; the constant pressure was incredible.

His hands settled onto my lower back, then slid up to rest on my shoulders. "Comfortable?" he asked. I didn't even try to form words; I just whimpered incoherently and nodded. "Good," said the demon. "I prefer that you enjoy yourself."

Yeah, that was not gonna be a hard goal to meet.

Whenever I breathed, I felt internal pressures shifting. The demon's magic made sure I could still take a full breath even with his dick shoved all the way up into the neighbourhood of my lungs and stomach, but it had to move some things around when I did. I wasn't even sure what all those pieces _were_ that I could feel being moved; his magic showed me what he was doing to my body in exquisite sensory detail, far beyond what my own nerves could give me, but it didn't include anatomy lessons. 

I squirmed again, hugging him for balance, this time trying to see if I could get any farther down. I couldn't tell for sure if I was succeeding, but the attempt gave me that stirred-molasses feeling again and that was more than enough to make me a happy woman. I also discovered that if I snuggled as close as possible and tilted my hips forward, I got some very nice external pressure, and when I rocked back and did it again I could feel my body sliding around the whole length of his cock. 

The demon purred.

So that seemed like a winning formula. I found a rhythm and kept at it. 

He kissed the top of my head, which was incongruously sweet, and which I liked for exactly that reason. I didn't think I could muster the coordination to kiss anything, but I leaned my face against his chest while I moved. Yeah, that was good, that was nice, that worked. His skin was so _soft_. 

For a little while, I stopped thinking. I didn't really need higher cognition for what I was doing, and under the circumstances, there was an appealing simplicity in pure hedonism. I didn't have to care that I was fucking a demon; I could just enjoy it. I didn't have to care that the things I felt happening in my body were more than slightly horrifying; I could just enjoy it. I didn't have to care that the heat under my skin was demon magic, literal hellfire, and it meant my body would never be completely mine again as long as I lived. I could just enjoy it. So I did. I rode the demon's cock and felt it painted in the heat of his magic, the way it moved, the way it stirred me like I was thick fluid. And I enjoyed it a _lot_.

Sometime after I abandoned conscious thought, a sense of urgency crept up on me, a familiar almost-there feeling. I started moving faster, and I had to muffle my whimpers against the demon's chest. The change of pace did amazing things to the way his dick moved inside me; there was real resistance now, drag caused by things not quite flowing fast enough, and it added whole new kinds of pleasant pressure to the experience.

When I came, I could feel my muscles clench around the base of his cock. Just the base. Up a little farther, I didn't have any muscles that worked that way. It was the most incredible thing. I'd almost gotten used to how huge he felt right there, and now I was squeezing him helplessly and finding out all over again.

I think I screamed. I felt like screaming. The good kind of scream, the _best_ kind, where you don't care that you're waking the neighbours because the sex is so good you want someone to build statues to it. 

And when I was mostly done and catching my breath while I rode out the last few tremors, the demon put his hands on my waist and lifted me until I was almost off his dick and then shoved me all the way back down.

Before, I'd been fucking him. This time _he_ was fucking _me_. Big difference. I pressed my hands against his chest to steady myself, and he used my body like a Fleshlight. I couldn't do much more than moan breathlessly. It was like that first glorious moment of sliding down onto his cock and feeling it go impossibly deep, repeated over and over again, faster and harder. I loved everything about it.

I probably had another orgasm. I probably had several. It was all kind of a blur, a delicious dizzy blur that ended in him slamming me down one last time onto his twitching cock and filling my abdominal cavity with demon sperm while I whimpered.

The first few moments after he finished spurting were quiet enough for me to try catching my breath again; it went somewhat better this time. I felt wrung out, well-fucked, exhausted, disgusting, and still kind of turned on. The fact that I could feel a foreign substance oozing between my distorted internal organs was a significant contributor to the 'disgusting' part.

He lifted me up again, gently and carefully. As his dick slid out of the space his magic had made for it, what it had left there followed, for which I was very grateful. There was a lot. It dripped on the carpet, and down my legs when I relaxed and let them dangle, even before his cock was all the way out. A dark shiny grey, like graphite.

When the head of his cock finally popped out of me, I whimpered again. It let out a small flood of lead-coloured semen, most of which ran down my thighs. At least there was none left actually _in_ my body; I could feel his magic shifting everything back into place and sealing up what needed sealing, and it cleaned out the last traces on the way. 

The thought that he might put me down and expect me to stand up was mildly worrying, but instead he hugged me, holding me up as effortlessly as ever. I nestled my head on his shoulder and sighed a limp, contented sort of sigh.

"Did you find that enjoyable?" he asked, stroking his hand down my back as his magic finally faded from my body.

"Mmmmmmnn," I said. It meant yes. I missed the heat of demon magic a little already.

He laughed.

"Perhaps you would like to bathe."

"Mmm," I said, and he laughed again and kissed the top of my head and carried me through a beautiful stone archway into another stunningly luxurious room that I'm sure I would have appreciated more if I hadn't been so worn out. The bath was set in the floor and made of that same glowing stone from the walls and ceiling, and it had steps, which he carried me down.

It had already been late afternoon moving into evening when I first saw him, and then there had been a lot of stress and tension followed by gloriously amazing sex, and now I was floating in warm water not anticipating any scary things in my immediate future. I made a halfhearted effort to stay awake, but still ended up falling asleep while the demon gently washed me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexy body horror again! Also some blood. You have been warned.

I woke up tucked between snuggly sheets and snugglier blankets, warm and clean and dry, still naked. The room was dark, the ceiling glowing only dimly, but I was pretty sure it was the same one.

Okay, so maybe being a demon's captive was not going to be as generally terrible as I'd thought.

When I sat up and looked around, I couldn't see the demon anywhere. I could make out the vague shapes of furniture that I had seen but not really noticed the night before, and a slightly-less-dim archway in the dimly glowing wall that I thought was the room where he'd given me a bath.

I wasn't really sure what I was supposed to _do_.

All things considered, though, that was a pretty good problem to have.

I climbed out of bed, running my hands over the blankets as I went. They were delightfully soft. For lack of anything much better to do, I found something that looked like a wardrobe and opened it. The light in the room was brightening the whole time, which I only fully noticed when I tugged a dangling sleeve out to inspect it and discovered I could see what colour it was. Royal blue, with gold embroidery. It had an infernal-conjured feel to it.

Maybe the demon wouldn't like me going through his stuff, and maybe he'd rather I walked around naked the whole time I was here, but I decided to risk it anyway. I started going through the things hanging in the wardrobe. There were a lot of robes, and some things that looked like folded sheets that I wasn't sure were even clothes, and dresses in varying styles, and everything I recognized as wearable seemed to be just about my size. I revised my prediction about whether or not he'd mind me picking something to wear; it seemed pretty clear he'd conjured this stuff for me.

Eventually I settled on a favourite: a dark green dress with short sleeves, a high collar, and a long flowing skirt. No underwear of any kind, but I could live with that, and maybe I'd find something in a drawer.

It's possible that I should have thought a little more about where I was and what I was doing there before I went around opening drawers.

There was no underwear to be had, but there was a lot of amazing jewelry, some clothes slightly more casual than my green dress, and a lot of things I could have happily gone without seeing. The entire chest-of-drawers full of sex toys, some with sophisticated animation enchantments, was embarrassing but not exactly _bad_ ; when I looked in the one beside it and saw a row of long knives, I shut that drawer firmly and decided to stop looking.

By that time, the room was as bright as I remembered it originally. Besides the furniture there was a closed door, which I didn't particularly want to open, and the archway that I figured must lead to the bath. I went through that one. It did, in fact, lead to the bath.

Last night I'd been pretty hazy by the time I'd seen this room; all I remembered was warm water, glowing stone, and a general sense of opulence. It definitely contained all those things. The room was a kind of bendy rectangle, following the curve of the bedroom wall in either direction, with walls and ceiling made of that same glowing cream-gold stone. On my right, the bath I remembered, full of clean water despite what I'd rinsed off in it while I was there; on my left, a curtain of blue and silver beads hosting some kind of minor infernal magic. I decided that, as nice as the demon had been to me so far, I still wasn't going to touch an unknown demon spell in a demon's house in hell. There were probably spells on a lot of things I had touched already - that bath _had_ to be self-cleaning, maybe self-filling too - but this one I could sense in advance, so I preferred to avoid it.

I went back into the bedroom. The demon was waiting for me, standing by the bed. He was not wearing clothes. Maybe he just didn't.

"...Hi," I said. He smiled. I stood there awkwardly, trying not to think about what I wasn't wearing under my pretty green dress.

"I hope you slept well," he said.

"Yeah." I smiled tentatively. "Your place is really nice."

"Thank you," said the demon. "I hope you will be comfortable here."

Well, that was nice of him. I took a few more steps into the room. He held out a hand to me, palm up, almost like he was asking me to dance, and I walked the rest of the way to the bed and gave him mine, which he picked up and kissed.

"Do you want me to fuck you again, Ananke?"

His magic touched me through the name, lightly and fleetingly. I recalled the previous night, in detail, and blushed.

"Uh. Yeah," I said.

The demon smiled again. "Good," he said, and he picked me up and sat down on the edge of the bed. My skirt was voluminous enough to let me straddle his lap without hiking it up any, and since he didn't specify beyond putting me down facing him, that's what I did. And then I kissed him.

He tasted just as good as I remembered.

Something occurred to me, though, in the middle of wrapping my arms around his shoulders and humming into his mouth. Last night, he'd done a lot of things to me that really should have hurt, and none of it had. That was absolutely a good thing for the big stuff, but... now I was thinking wistful thoughts about his fangs. He seemed so keen on my comfort, truthfully so, and he wanted me to enjoy myself. I wondered if it would be safe to tell him that I didn't mind if _some_ things hurt.

Well. He wasn't the type to make excuses about me giving him ideas, I could tell that much. I probably wouldn't fuck up the conversation badly enough to make him legitimately think I was asking for more than I meant to. If he wanted to seriously hurt me, he would, whether or not I told him what I thought of pain in moderation.

Okay.

I broke the kiss and leaned back a little. Despite my unassailable logic, it was harder to start talking than I'd expected. The demon looked at me. He was paying attention, listening, waiting for me to say what was on my mind. His name told me as much, but I could've figured it out by myself.

"...So," I said. "I'm not sure how to say this, but... Last night, you were using your magic to stop me feeling any pain, right?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Well, thank you. I appreciate it. But, um, I'm okay with pain _sometimes_. I like it, I mean. When it's not too much."

"That is good to know," said the demon, smiling. "Thank you for telling me."

I felt reassured by everything but that smile. His name let me know he was sincere and not hostile, not going to twist my words, but the smile looked to me like he meant trouble. Not necessarily the worst kind of trouble, but any kind of trouble from a demon was probably bad.

Whatever. For a demon, this one was kind of unbelievably nice. If he was planning something, I was probably going to get off on it, even if it wasn't something I'd sign up for on purpose. I was okay with that.

I leaned forward and kissed him again.

He didn't take immediate advantage of his new knowledge. That was fine by me. I liked kissing him. No enhancements required. Just the softness of his skin, the way he held me, the way he used his tongue, and the amazing taste of his mouth.

I wondered what his dick tasted like. I wondered what the liquid graphite he'd washed off me tasted like. I expected I was going to find out eventually, and I didn't really want to ask if I could try it right that second. For one thing, if I was going to get anywhere giving him a blowjob I'd have to unhinge my jaw like a snake, which didn't seem like a sexy prospect. If I was being honest with myself, I had to admit that I thought he could probably find a way to get his dick in my mouth that I'd end up liking, but I was still in no hurry to discover what that might be.

Something was lifting the parts of my skirt that lay across the demon's lap; I could feel fabric shifting. I considered the possibilities and concluded that the demon was getting horny. It didn't scare me as much as it had last night; I knew what to expect now, and while it was still kind of frightening, I also knew how much I was going to like it.

More idle thoughts crossed my mind while we kissed. I noticed that his hair wasn't strictly black, but a very dark red, and so were his eyelashes. I wondered if this demon used a spoken name. Some did and some didn't, according to some rule or custom or whim that had never been explained to me, either because humans just didn't know it or because it was obscure enough and/or useless enough not to make it into the standard material on demons. I decided I didn't need to ask anytime soon; for all I knew it might be incredibly rude or something.

The demon ran his hands down my back. It felt very nice. I made an appreciative little 'mm' sound and he grabbed my ass and squeezed, which made me giggle, which made him grin. This was not really the kind of fun I'd been expecting, but in some ways it was better. There is something fundamentally unscary about a guy who likes it when you giggle at him.

Somehow - I had no idea how; that thing went on for practically miles - he managed to get his hands under my skirt and start stroking my legs. I kept expecting him to get tangled in the fabric, and it kept not happening, and finally it clicked: the dress was _conjured_. As in, he had conjured it. A conjured item's creator retains more control over it than most people want anyone to have over their clothes. In case you didn't know why there isn't more of a market in conjured items in general, now you do.

Well. That had undeniable possibilities, and I liked most of them. It wasn't just a matter of navigating enormous puddles of skirt; if I wore his conjured clothing, he could command it to move however he wanted, or dissolve entirely. Or just dissolve _partially_ , if he was really good. Which I suspected he was.

Oh, and now he was smirking at me.

I blushed.

"Anything you find in this room is yours to use for as long as you stay here," he says. "I am pleased that you have already found something you liked among the clothing."

"It's all really pretty," I said.

"I conjured it myself."

"Yeah, um, I noticed."

He smirked again. "I thought you might."

I shivered, resting my hands on his shoulders. I was up on my knees high enough to not quite _touch_ his lap, which incidentally gave him room to run his fingers along my inner thighs. He did that. I thought about his talons and bit my lip, tantalized or terrified, I wasn't sure which.

The demon wrapped his hand around my upper thigh and dug in his claws. His grip was crushing. I moaned.

"Is this the kind of pain you like?" he asked.

Whimpering, I managed a nod. He squeezed a little harder, then let go. I slumped against him, pressing my face into his chest. I could feel what I thought was a trickle of blood, but I couldn't be sure. The demon ran his hand up the outside of my other leg, paused, then raked his talons down it from hip to knee. I moaned again.

"And this?"

" _Yes_."

He chuckled. This time I could definitely feel blood. Not a lot, but enough to drip. I took a few deep breaths, enjoying the sting, and then straightened up to kiss him some more. I didn't quite dare try to feel his fangs, and he didn't bite.

"Is there anything else you would like?" he murmured when I finally broke away.

"Use my name," I said immediately, and then blushed when I realized how easily I'd come to think of it as _mine_. It was, though, on several essential levels. And I had to admit I liked it that way.

"Of course," he said, smiling. "Ananke."

He kissed me again, and I felt his magic occupy my body. It was just as good as I remembered. It also showed me in detail exactly what he'd just done to me with his hands - the deep bruises blooming in my left leg, the shallow punctures bleeding there, and the long bloody gouges down my right. I whimpered into the kiss. I didn't need his magic to tell me I was supremely turned on, but it gave me - and the demon - a few extra layers of detail on the subject.

Since the dress was _not_ part of my body, I gained no special insight into its physical structure, and therefore it took me a few seconds to realize it was tearing itself smoothly apart and peeling away from me in sections. By the time I noticed, it was already halfway off and fleeing in every direction.

"I _liked_ that dress," I said indignantly.

The demon chuckled. "I will make you ten more like it," he said, and he kissed the side of my neck, which was a pretty good distraction from my wayward clothing. I hugged him and relaxed and somehow managed to forget that he still had fangs.

So of course he bit me.

It was surprise more than pain that made me gasp, which isn't to say it didn't hurt, because it really did. I clung to him with both arms while his magic showed me what his teeth were doing to my neck - bruising and tearing, leaving a deep and bloody mark. I could also feel when his fangs actually _touched_ a major blood vessel, and then stopped just barely short of ripping it open. I tried to stay very still. It was terrifying in the most visceral way, and I was absolutely into it.

He slowly took his mouth away. My neck throbbed. There was a lot more blood this time; it ran down onto my shoulder and from there onto my chest, with a few trickles veering away to drip down my arm or my back.

"This, too?" he said. I moaned and nodded, both of which were painful. The demon kissed the bite, and then licked it, and then followed the stream of blood down to my breast, which he also kissed. I was _expecting_ teeth this time, shuddering with anticipation, but he stayed gentle. I didn't relax. Having a fanged demon suck on my breasts while I waited for him to hurt me again was not relaxing. I let him pull me up to sit higher so he didn't have to bend down so much, and I whimpered a lot.

His hands settled on my waist, then slid up my back. It was a lovely addition to all the other lovely things I was feeling. And then he set his talons just above my shoulderblades and dragged them down, ripping eight ragged furrows into my skin, and that was even better. I almost lost my balance, just because I had so many better things to pay attention to. He steadied me with his hands and a little bit of magic, and I made undignified noises while he sucked on my collarbone.

The bite I was waiting for never came. Instead, he slid his hand over my hip and down to my crotch. If I'd been thinking at all, I would've been frightened, but I was back in the happy place of sensation and not much else, so I just moaned and leaned on him while he kissed my blood-streaked shoulder and stroked me with the backs of his fingers.

I only woke up to the implications when I felt a talon _there_ , the point digging in just short of breaking skin, just below my clit. I froze.

"And this?" he asked.

Part of me wanted to say yes and see what happened. Part of me _really, really didn't_. For once I decided to go with the voice of caution. "N-no," I said shakily, and then more firmly: "No, thank you." (It seemed like a good idea to be polite.)

"As you like, then," he said. The talon withdrew. I shivered. Then something changed about the hand he still had resting on my lower back - even with enhanced body awareness, it took me a second to figure out that while his hand hadn't _moved_ , the tips of his claws were no longer resting against my skin.

The hand that had been rubbing my crotch came back, now with no sharp parts. It was still a few more seconds before I started to relax.

"Yours is not the only body I can change," he said, and yes, okay, that made sense, he'd as much as told me that he built himself specifically to be as sexy as possible. Why _wouldn't_ he just get rid of his talons when they became inconvenient?

At that point my train of thought was interrupted.

You might think that after the way he'd fucked me the night before, and the way I was consequently anticipating him fucking me that morning, I would've been sexually contemptuous of anything less than his outrageously huge demon dick. You might think it, but it didn't turn out to be true. His fingers did the job _just_ fine.

For one thing, I was still infused with demon magic through the name he'd given me, so I felt in amazing detail exactly how they slid into me - not impossibly deep, but plenty deep enough; not impossibly thick, but plenty thick enough. And for another thing, I was still bleeding in several places, and the hint of pain when two fingers proved to be just a little too much enriched that experience in a way that having my physical limits painlessly overturned definitely wouldn't have.

I moaned and pressed myself down onto his hand, which he correctly interpreted as an invitation to get on with it. Then I had to cling to him for leverage, because he was finger-fucking me hard enough to lift me into the air if I didn't push back. It was fantastic. It still hurt, but in the getting-good-and-nailed way, not the too-much-of-a-good-thing way. It wasn't going to get me off, but I was still getting off _on_ it, which is a difference I have been able to explain to approximately zero boyfriends.

That went on for an entirely delicious little while, at the end of which I was shaky and breathless and making an increasingly doomed effort to stay more or less upright under my own power. Just when I was pretty sure I was going to lose that battle, the demon slowed down, then stopped. I leaned on him and gave up trying to support myself, and he held me up mostly one-handed while he ran his other hand pleasantly-painfully down my back.

"That was _nice_ ," I sighed.

"I am glad you think so," said the demon. He flexed his fingers inside me. I gave them a semi-voluntary squeeze and mumbled something unintelligible but complimentary into his shoulder. He chuckled. I wondered if he was about to fuck me.

Not right that very minute, it turned out. He let me catch my breath first, let me rest until I didn't feel quite so much like an overcooked noodle. There's nothing like really vigorous sex for showing you how out-of-shape you are, although I was inclined to cut myself some slack on the grounds that I was mortal and my partner definitely wasn't. For all I knew, demons just didn't get tired, and he could fuck me until I passed out and then keep going until I woke up again.

Which, once I'd thought of it, sounded either brutally uncomfortable or frighteningly hot. Or both. On consideration, definitely both. And on further consideration, I figured that _this_ demon would probably take care to make sure I was comfortable enough to enjoy it the whole time, so 'frighteningly hot' won the final round.

Then I discovered that in contemplating this hypothetical scenario I had started humping the demon's hand a little. I looked up at his face to see if he was smirking. He was. I blushed, but it felt nice, so I didn't stop. Noticing it did bring up a minor problem, though: I wasn't sure I had the energy to do anything more active. If he _was_ about to fuck me, I wouldn't be up for much in the way of participation.

He kissed my forehead when I started to slow down. I hugged him. It was mightily incongruous to be exchanging small gestures of affection with a demon, but I wasn't about to complain. It sure beat the alternative.

"You seem tired," he observed.

"Mmhmm," I said, articulately.

"Do you still want me to fuck you?"

Well, if I had the _option_ … I thought about it. I remembered what it had been like the first time. I decided that, yeah, passively getting fucked by this demon while I was too tired to contribute much still sounded pretty awesome.

"Sure," I said. He kissed my forehead again and withdrew his hand. I missed those fingers immediately, but I didn't expect to miss them for long.

The demon scooped me up and then put me down on the bed next to him. I closed my eyes, hugged myself, and enjoyed the feeling of infernal magic and the way it brought my various minor injuries into better focus. It occurred to me that part of the reason I was so tired might have been blood loss. I decided I didn't really mind if it was. The scratches down my right leg and the punctures in my left had mostly closed, but the bite on my neck and the claw marks down my back were still bleeding freely. I felt slightly bad about bleeding all over the gorgeous blankets on this gorgeous bed, but the demon didn't seem to mind, so presumably he could clean them just fine.

He picked me up again and moved me, and I discovered that while I had been thinking about blood he had been building me a cozy pillow nest. It was soft and comfortable. I snuggled into it. He ran his hands up my thighs, nudging them apart; I let him, not that I could've stopped him if I'd tried. When he was finished arranging me for his convenience, I was on my back with my legs spread and he was pressing gentle kisses to my stomach. I sighed happily. His kisses wandered lower.

Somehow, he managed not to introduce even a hint of fang into what followed. He licked me and sucked on my clit and I made lazily appreciative sounds and at no point did anything sharp happen. After a few sleepy and extremely pleasant minutes, I passed through my lethargic haze and woke up a little on the sheer strength of how horny I was, and just as I was starting to feel like I might be getting somewhere with that, he took his mouth away. I may have pouted. He laughed and kissed the crease of my hip, with a swipe of his tongue that made me wriggle plaintively.

It shouldn't have been a surprise at that point that the demon was strong, but when he wrapped his hands around my thighs and I tried to keep squirming, I was shocked by how thoroughly I failed. He grinned, showing fang. I moaned and strained against his grip, not really trying to get away so much as to get _anywhere_ , and that mostly for the pleasure of failing. He tightened his hands and I whimpered with pain as new bruises formed under his fingers.

Then he let go. I exhaled and closed my eyes, enjoying the moment, enjoying the pain and helplessness and the slow burn of demon magic under my skin. I probably should have cared how fucked up it was to enjoy those things, but I was kind of past that. And I was about to enjoy something a whole lot more fucked up.

I felt the demon's hand between my legs again, stroking gently, and then I felt the wide round head of his cock. Even remembering exactly how he'd done it, I had trouble picturing how he was going to make it fit. It _felt_ like there was just no way. I knew he wouldn't even need to make major structural changes for this part - he hadn't, last time - but I still couldn't imagine him trying it without magic and getting anywhere.

Maybe I should have imagined a little harder.

Because he didn't use magic. Not right away. He just... pushed, not that hard at first, and then a little more, and then with his hands on my thighs again for leverage, and then I could actually feel myself open up a little. I whimpered incredulously. He kept up the pressure, and millimeter by millimeter, in he went.

It hurt. It hurt kind of a lot, when he really started to make progress. I was in the right mood, though, so that was fine by me. It helped that he was going so slow, and that I didn't have to do anything at all except lie there and take it. So I did that, and he sank his dick into me at glacial speeds. I felt it all, through my body and his magic. Amazingly, I never bled. He was slow enough and I was wet enough and relaxed enough that nothing tore.

When he finally got the head all the way in, with a _pop_ that I felt more than heard, the comparative lack of resistance meant it moved much faster from there - but there also wasn't that much farther to go. He wasn't going to get past _there_ without his magic reshaping my body, no matter how much slow careful pressure he applied. And, thankfully, he didn't try; he stopped.

"And _this_ pain, Ananke?" he asked softly.

I moaned. He pulled back, slowly, and pushed forward again. It still hurt. I still loved it. Was he just going to fuck me like this? I was almost disappointed, but fuck, it was incredible. Like the best possible kind of torture, slow and painful and glorious.

He did, in fact, fuck me like that. It started out slow, and stayed that way for a good long while, but after I'd had plenty of time to get used to it - when it barely hurt anymore - he started moving faster. Which, to my surprise, didn't make it hurt again. I would've missed the pain, if I wasn't so busy enjoying everything else. It felt good in ways I could barely have imagined before I started fucking a demon. The incredible pressure was one thing, and it was pretty good all by itself, but then there was the way it _moved_ inside me. I was getting as fucked as it is possible to get.

Well, almost.

I _really_ shouldn't have forgotten that the demon had a lot more dick than he was giving me. I didn't even forget, exactly, I just wasn't thinking about it. Distracted. Understandably so. But it meant that when he finally went for it, opening up my body with his magic and ramming himself all the way in, I screamed. It wasn't in pain; that part hadn't even hurt. It was a little like fear and a little like surprise, and the rest was pure pleasure.

He barely paused. I wouldn't have wanted him to. He kept right on fucking me as I caught my breath and trailed off into a low moan. If I arched my back a little and crushed the pillows under my shoulders, I could feel his cock sliding along the inside of my stomach muscles, pressing them outward. I opened my eyes and looked. There was a visible bulge under my skin, moving with his thrusts. I felt distantly sick and much more immediately enthralled. Part of me was imagining what it would be like if he went all the way through, if he just split me open and came popping out, and having intensely mixed feelings about the idea. Part of me was discovering that I really, _really_ liked both the image and the sensation of the demon's cock pushing out against the surface of my body from the inside.

I couldn't keep my back arched for long, but when I relaxed, I could still feel his dick stroking my abdominal wall. Good enough and then some. I whimpered. And I laid my hand flat just under my ribcage and felt him nudging into my palm through the intervening layers of flesh.

"Oh _fuck_ ," I gasped. There was something really _real_ about feeling him under my hand like that. I liked the way his magic extended my senses, but it wasn't familiar the way my own eyes and my own skin were familiar. It made a big difference.

As I shuddered and moaned again, the demon slowed down. I pressed my hand down a little harder.

He let go of my bruised and bloody thighs and put his hand over mine.

That was kind of unexpectedly intimate. The long slow strokes of his cock, tangible in my altered body and under my hand, and now the way he gently pressed my hand down for me so I could feel it a little clearer. I sighed dreamily.

"You enjoy this?" he asked.

"Mmhmmmmm," I said, and when I felt the head of his dick come up under my hand again I pressed down and stroked it as best I could.

"I enjoy _that_ ," said the demon.

"Good," I said. I did it again.

He kept on fucking me slowly, and I kept on giving him the world's weirdest handjob, petting his dick through my own skin and muscle. I liked it, though, and so did he, and those were the important parts. I felt comfortable, which isn't the first word that comes to mind when you think about having a demon's cock in you so deep you can put your hand on your stomach and feel it, or when you think about getting fucked while you're bleeding from multiple places, but it was still true. Comfortable. Cozy. Content. The bite and the scratches and bruises still hurt, but in a nice way.

I got sleepy again. Little by little, I relaxed all over, until the demon's hand on mine was doing most of the work. And then, eventually, he came. I felt the way his cock moved under my hand, and the way it gushed thick fluid into my body, filling the spaces between my bones and muscles and organs. I noticed, this time, that there was enough of it to make me visibly bloated - not _very_ , but some.

With his dick still in me, he leaned down and gave me a slow, warm kiss. I kissed him back. It was nice. Comfortable, again, even with the way I sloshed disturbingly when I moved.

"Do you want to keep your injuries?" he murmured, taking his hand away from my stomach to touch the bite on my neck.

"Mm… no," I decided. "Thanks."

I didn't put much thought into wondering how exactly he would heal me. It seemed obvious that demonic healing would be different from the human kind, but I had no good way to speculate about the details. So I was kind of surprised when the first thing that happened was his semen diffusing out into my body. It felt _strange_. I understood it after a moment, though - I'd lost blood, and he was replacing it with the nearest convenient source of material. Naming me must have given us a close enough connection that he could transmute it into something physically and magically identical to my own blood. I felt a tiny bit of alchemical envy; I'd worked on transmuting viable blood before, and it hadn't been easy, and here he was casually doing it in a live setting with what should have been a fundamentally alien substance, and using the leftovers to help patch up all my cuts and scrapes and punctures. Which he closed without scar tissue, another minor medical miracle. Last of all, he soothed away my bruises, which was a sensation I liked almost as much as I'd liked receiving them. I shivered.

"Better?" he asked, smiling.

"Yeah," I said, smiling back.

He kissed me again and slowly pulled his cock out of me, restoring the relevant parts of my body to their normal shapes and positions as he went. That felt nice too. I slumped in my pillow nest for a few seconds afterward, had an impulse, decided to go with it, and sat up and hugged him.

Laughing softly, he hugged me back.

"You're a _nice_ demon," I mumbled against his chest. "I like you."

"I'm very pleased to hear it," he said, kissing my forehead and running his hand down my bloodstained but undamaged back. "Would you like to have breakfast?"

"Ooh, _yes_ ," I said. "Definitely."

"Here, or in one of my dining rooms?"

"Um… here?" I did not really feel up to exploring a demon's palace right then.

"Of course," he said agreeably. "You may bathe while I make arrangements, if you like."

"...yeah," I said, looking down at the blood on my chest and thighs. "I think I'll do that."

The demon got out of bed. After a moment or two, so did I. He went out the door, and I went into the bathroom. The water was as warm as I remembered it. I felt infernal magic fading slowly from my body while I washed the blood off my skin, and this time I didn't fall asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

After I got myself cleaned up, and verified the lack of lingering bloodstains using the huge ornately framed mirror on the bathroom wall, I came back out into the bedroom to find that the bed was spotless and my green dress was laid out on it, perfectly repaired. Putting it on seemed like the obvious thing to do, so I did that.

Then I was kind of at a loss.

I perched on the edge of the bed and thought about my life. Just yesterday I'd been a freshly graduated sorceress, staying in my hometown for a few months while I decided whether to move back or move out, thinking about what I'd wear to Gran's funeral and wondering if her soul would appreciate it if I dug up those dino mittens. Now I was the captive and/or fuckbuddy of the nicest demon in hell, who was so honest and benign that I barely even noticed anymore when his name let me know once again that he was telling the truth and not scheming against me in any way. I had a magnificently luxurious bedroom suite in his infernal palace, a wardrobe full of gorgeous conjured clothing, more sex toys than I knew what to do with, and my only obligation in all this was to have the most amazing sex of my life with my demonic host. And I had every reason to think that if I turned him down sometime, he wouldn't push it.

Mortal life was starting to pale in comparison.

It _would_ be nice to go home and hang out with humans again, somewhere that felt properly terrestrial. I was even starting to think that if I asked him, he might _let_ me. But then what? If time flowed the same in hell and on earth, they might have already discovered what Gran was hiding in her basement. As soon as they verified that the demon hadn't escaped, they'd know he'd taken me with him. I had to assume I'd be presumed dead at that point. What else could they do? If I went back, I'd have to explain the bargain I'd made. They'd probably want a truth spell to verify my identity and that I hadn't sold my soul, and then for the rest of my life I'd carry a demon's name with me, visible to anybody with a keen sense of the infernal. And an awkward thing to explain in job interviews.

The door opened. I looked up, abandoning that train of thought before it reached the obvious conclusion. The demon was back, with a beautiful stone table levitating behind him. He was also wearing clothes - specifically, a black kilt with gold trim. It looked very nice on him. He sat down next to me on the bed, and the table with its load of covered dishes settled onto the floor in front of us.

I didn't really know what to expect, having never been served breakfast by a demon before. But what I got was all recognizable human food, even all things I liked. There were _waffles_.

"Are these _evil_ waffles?" I asked, twisting to look up at him. I was mostly joking.

"Yes," he said dryly, and his name told me he was joking right back even before he grinned. "No, Ananke. You are a guest here. The food will not harm you."

"Well, good." I leaned into him. He ruffled my hair. I ate the waffles.

While I was doing that, the demon raided the fruit salad, spearing individual pieces of fruit with his talons. It was sort of adorable.

When I giggled, he grinned down at me and then tucked his wing around my shoulders. It was amazingly flexible, and warm, and I did a spontaneous happy wiggle and hugged his arm. He chuckled. I blushed and went back to my food, but my grin just wouldn't go away. There was no denying it: this demon was _cute_.

Maybe this was what people were talking about when they spoke of corrupting demonic influence. Somehow I didn't think so. I had just managed to land myself a demon who happened to be a total sweetheart.

There was no way I could finish everything on the table, but I gave it my best shot. When I was definitely completely and entirely full, I tucked my feet up under me and leaned against the demon's side. He wrapped his wing around me like a living blanket and kissed the top of my head.

"That was really good," I sighed. "Thanks."

"I am pleased that you enjoyed it," said the demon. "Are you feeling better now?"

I yawned. "Yeah. Still kinda tired, though."

"You may sleep," he said, "or amuse yourself here, or wander the palace, as you prefer. If you become lost or distressed or need something you cannot provide for yourself, you may call on me and I will assist you if I am not occupied with something more pressing."

"...Thanks," I said. _That_ time I paid attention to how honest he was being. Blanket offers of help like that are not something you hear about demons giving to people. But there he was, sincerely offering to give me any reasonable assistance I might ask for. Since it seemed relevant, I added, "I'm not really sure _how_ to use your name to contact you."

The demon smiled at me. "Try," he suggested.

So I closed my eyes and thought about it. His name was still there, the same way it always was, a warm and constant presence. When I reached for it in my mind, I felt a toned-down version of the fiery burst it had given me when I first learned it. And once I weathered that... a slightly different sense of presence. More active, more connected.

{Oh,} I thought, and felt the word pass through his name.

{Yes,} he replied without speaking aloud. {Simple, but not easy to understand until you have done it.}

"Sounds about right," I agreed, letting go of his name and feeling it fade into the back of my mind. "Okay."

His wing hugged me a little tighter, then unwrapped and folded against his back as he stood up. "I will take my leave now," he said. "Later, I will return."

As he walked away, a question occurred to me. "Hey, uh... what's with that curtain in the other room?"

"It is spelled for privacy," he said, glancing back at me. "Beyond it are things which address mortal needs."

Okay, so that's where the toilet was hiding. Good to know, because that would have been an embarrassing thing to call him for.

He was halfway to the door when I blurted, "Wait, you mean demons don't pee?"

Instead of answering, he laughed all the way out of the room.

When I was done hiding my face in my hands and laughing at myself, I went to address some mortal needs.

Despite the demon's invitation, I still didn't really feel up to wandering the palace. I spent a few minutes inspecting the enchantment on the strings of beads hanging in the bathroom, but I couldn't tell much even now that I knew more or less what the spell was for. It was tidy, efficient, self-contained, infernal, and it had something to do with environmental control and screening perception. That's all I could get from it.

So I ended up back in the bedroom, lying on the very comfortable bed, staring at the gorgeous ceiling. This did not occupy me sufficiently. It was a lovely bed, but I wasn't sleepy enough to nap in it.

There were, of course, other options...

I got up and went over to the chest-of-drawers where I remembered finding an amazing number and variety of sex toys. They were all still there. I went to pick up a golden dildo to study its animation enchantment, and almost dropped it; the thing must have been literally solid gold. I got it out of the drawer on my second try.

It was a work of art, physically and magically. The surface was smooth and polished, with a slight rippled pattern that felt interesting under my fingers. It was not a realistic depiction of anyone's penis, at least not that I'd ever seen, but it had the right general profile. And that enchantment... even without making contact, I could tell it was meant to be used by someone who knew their way around complex spells. Animation enchantments meant for mundane use always have an air of padded edges and rounded corners to them; the unkind term in the business is 'kiddie proof'. This thing was sleek, intricate, minimally explained, and all the control points were directly magical. Unlike, say, a chalk circle for summoning demons, where just standing in the right place would give even the most mundane person access to the basics of the spell, this one would only open up for someone who could see the spell structure and hook in deliberately.

Well, now I was curious. I hooked in.

It was definitely infernal work. I'd known that already, but the sense was much stronger with the deeper contact. And it was beautifully designed. I could sense every routine embedded in the spell structure, open them up to look at their variations, compare them side by side, even play with hypothetical combinations and sequences.

And, okay, it was a magic dildo and I was looking it over because I was bored in my bedroom with nothing else to do. It was hard _not_ to think about trying out some of these animations for real. The enchantment felt temptingly responsive. I didn't really have any reason not to. The demon had told me I could use whatever I found here, and then he'd suggested I amuse myself; he pretty clearly wouldn't mind.

I wondered if he had any spy spells on the room. I didn't sense any offhand, but then, you usually don't. I decided not to check. I didn't exactly mind if he did, and as long as I didn't know for sure, I could pretend he didn't and avoid getting weird about it.

With that question settled, I took the enchanted dildo over to the bed. It was already getting warm in my hand; I found the spell's temperature control and double-checked its parameters to make sure it wouldn't get _too_ warm, since I wasn't sure I trusted a demon's spell to follow human safety standards. As it turned out, it was stabilizing by default at what I translated after a moment as 'pleasantly warm', although I could see options to go either much lower or much higher. I didn't touch them.

So. I flopped among the comfy pillows and considered my options. And, okay, the thought that the demon _might_ be watching got me going a little. I imagined him lounging in some other elaborate bedroom, jerking off. I got a little distracted wondering _how_ he jerked off. He did have pretty big hands, but...

Now thoroughly occupied by pleasant speculation about the demon's masturbatory habits, complete with some lovely images of his lovely hands on his lovely dick, I hauled up approximately an acre of skirt - maybe wearing this particular dress for this particular activity had been an oversight - and commenced touching myself. The golden dildo hovered in the air at my command. Its direct motion controls were as effective and straightforward as the efficient spell design had implied. Essentially, I could make it levitate however and wherever I wanted as long as it stayed in range. Which definitely beat having to physically move it around. Gold is an impractical material for sex toys.

I hadn't decided _exactly_ what I wanted to do with it yet, but I had a good enough general idea to be getting on with. I sent it down past my bunched-up skirt and used my hands to guide it in.

It was really _solid_. In terms of metals, gold is soft, but in terms of things you are likely to fuck, it's still a metal. And even with a little levitation in the mix, it felt heavy. The combination was interesting. I was definitely starting to see the appeal. I wriggled a little, felt how it was slow to move with me, and adjusted the enchantment until it found the right frame of reference and 'holding still' started to mean following my movements instead of resisting them. Then I left the spell alone for a minute. I had better things to play with.

My mind wandered, as it usually does. I thought about the demon jerking off again. I thought about his dick, about touching it, which I hadn't done a lot of yet, at least not with my hands. I thought about the glaring impracticalities of giving him a blowjob, and about how much I wanted to do it anyway. I thought about him fucking me. I remembered how I'd vaguely expected it to go, and how it had gone instead, and then I thought about him treating me in a more traditionally demonic fashion. With his dick.

That one was a winner, strictly in fantasy terms. I had no actual ambition to be fucked to death by a nastier alternate version of my favourite demon, but thinking about it still made me happy in the area of my figurative pants. I picked a nice slow animation for the enchanted dildo to start with, and while it fucked me I rubbed my clit and thought about how badly the demon could hurt me if he felt like it. I had no trouble imagining him casually breaking my bones; I knew he was strong enough that it would barely take effort. And if he just decided to let me feel pain while he fucked me in places humans are not meant to be fucked, I had no doubt it would be excruciating, even if he didn't get any rougher with me on top of that. Which he very easily could.

Now I was getting all pleasantly shivery. I changed routines on the magic dildo to something a little more emphatic, and I pictured the demon being _careless_ about what he did to me with his inhuman strength and his inhuman dick. Careless would be all it would take. I'd be a bleeding heap on the floor when he was done with me, if I lived through it at all. It was a terrifying thought, but in the _good_ way, because I knew by now that the actual chance of carelessness from him was pretty much nil. So I was free to like the idea without worrying about the reality.

What a way to go, though. I bit my lip in an ineffectual attempt to muffle my happy whimpering while I squirmed under my own hands and thought about what the demon could do to me without his magic smoothing the way. What it would feel like if he really let loose. Imaginary fantasy me didn't have to worry about trivialities like survival or realistic pain tolerance, so she was still into it even with her imaginary ribs broken and her imaginary internal organs mostly mush. And with that brutal scene in mind, I pressed my face into a pillow and came.

It was intense, almost painfully so, and it lasted a while. When it was done I had a few uncomfortable seconds before I remembered how to turn off the enchantment, and then I lay there blissfully with my eyes closed and both hands still on my crotch, not thinking about anything in particular. I didn't even bother commanding the golden dildo to make an exit. It felt nice right where it was, anyway.

Predictably enough, my state of happy temporary immobility led directly to a state of nap.


End file.
